


Ungrown

by Happykiss



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 16:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7112977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happykiss/pseuds/Happykiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stop being so stubborn. Your body can't take much more of what you been doing to yourself lately. I won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. We have been through too much during the last four years to lose you to your own folly!" Tag to S03E05</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ungrown

**Author's Note:**

> After returning to Paris, nothing feels right to d'Artagnan anymore. Especially himself.

Athos frowned to himself as he continued to watch the training from his spot, no it would remain Trevilles' spot always, high above the garrison.

The recruits had long since finished sparring off against each other and were watching the troublesome show that d'Artagnan was providing.

The musketeer was squaring off against two recruits at the same time, defending and attacking seemingly at the same time.

That alone was not unusual and very much easily in d'Artagnan's wide field of abilities. But whenever one of the men was seemingly getting slower or made one too many mistakes, his second lieutenant would send them out of the fight with a bark of dismissal and call for another to replace him, someone fresher and still quick to thrust and parry. 

The younger men were clearly in awe to be part of such a masterful dance between their instructor and themselves and all were eagerly waiting for their own chance.

If you looked closely though, it was clear to the seasoned swordsman that d'Artagnan's thrusts were aimed carefully as to not harm the others but receiving more and more of their counter strikes upon himself. He looked more than exhausted by now but he stubbornly refused to end this madness.

It wasn't a lesson for the recruits at all, they didn't learn anything from this exercise but it seemed as if d'Artagnan furiously attempted to fight the whole regiment in one go.

As to why, Athos didn't really know. He had an idea though.

"He's been at it for hours. Why is he doing this?" Constance had climbed up and stood next to the captain. He glanced at her with a subtle turn of his head, her face looked troubled but her eyes glistened with angry, unshed tears. "I already told that idiot to stop this nonsense but he won't listen to me," she huffed in exasperation.

At that moment one of the boys in the fight stumbled clumsily over his own feet while ducking under one of d'Artagnan's lunges and tumbled sideways with his arms helplessly rotating through the air.

Athos noticed his lieutenant's eyes widen for a split second before he stooped low and caught the boy before he could land and skewer himself with his own rapier. The sword instead sliced clear through the sleeve of d'Artagnans shirt.

The crowd let out a collective gasp and the boy who had fallen was quickly to push himself up while muttering apologies to the superior musketeer.

D'Artagnan dismissed him with a snapped order and demanded another of the recruits to step up and continue wile he stood in the middle of the yard, panting and sweating, with blood starting to seep through his sleeve.

There wasn't anyone volunteering and d'Artagnan angrily faced the young men. "I said again," he yelled.

"No, you've had enough!" Porthos told him firmly while he and Aramis walked into the yard side by side. The recruits quickly scattered to busy themselves with other matters, relief openly flooding through them.

Aramis gently put one hand to d'Artagnan's heaving chest in an attempt to calm him but the boy roughly pushed him away. "You have no right to dismiss them. We were in training still," he snapped at the confused medic.

Porthos folded his arms and lifted one eyebrow in disbelief. "That wasn't training. You were trying to get hurt. Congratulation, you got what you wanted. Now stop being a brat and let Aramis look at your arm," the big musketeer told his brother without any of his usual humor in his voice. He had been too hell and back together with that boy and he wouldn't just stand by too see d'Artagnan take on pain when there was no need for it.

On cue, Aramis made to reach for his brother's bleeding arm but d'Artagnan pulled away again and unsheathed his sword once more.

"I guess you will have to fight to get to me first," he grinned but his eyes were hard and his face seemed strangely closed off. Shocked, Aramis looked at Porthos and saw his own display of emotions reflected there. As one, both older musketeers drew their own swords and positioned themselves on either side of d'Artagnan.

"Have they all lost their minds? You have to stop this. Please Athos!" Constance exclaimed in horror when both men started to close in on her husband.

But the captain of the musketeers shook his head. No he wanted to find out where the others were going with this. "They won't harm him, I promise," he told the woman.

If d'Artagnan was surprised by the turn of events, he didn't let it show. Instead he attacked anew with new-found vigour.

But it was only a short uprising.

Both Porthos and Aramis did not go for the obvious openings the boy had left for them to strike at him but rather orchestrated the fight by simply moving quicker that the worn-out musketeer.

Before long they had shepherded him into a corner and the Spaniard disarmed him while Porthos grabbed him from behind, twisting d'Artagnans uninjured arm and pushing him against the wooden wall.

"Stop now, little brother," the bigger man spoke into his ear, softly and without anger. 

But d'Artagnan didn't want to listen, not to calm down or to see defeat when it was undeniably upon him. He kept struggling against Porthos' hold while snarling terrible insults to provoke the other man to lash out at him in return.

Suddenly Athos appeared next to them.

"Let him go Porthos," he instructed grimly.

D'Artagnan shook his grip off angrily and stumbled momentarily but found his feet quickly enough before anyone had to help him stand.

Constance stood closely as well but still kept a step behind Athos. The woman looked ready to slap some heads. "I don't know what this is but I demand you all to end this foolish behavior. What has gotten into you?" She inquired loudly while stepping forward to stand in front of her husband.

"Your actions have been reckless and childish. You are supposed to be teaching the recruits, not scaring them!" She was about to continue but he silenced her before she had another chance, by holding up his hand.

"You may think me immature but I am not your responsibility, neither do I have to listen to you lecturing me," the young man snapped and made to push past his brothers and wife.

"Wait," Aramis tried to make peace and gently took hold of the Gascons arm again to access the damage. He didn't count on the boy violently jerking away from his touch once more, tearing the wound further apart.

D'Artagnan sharply hissed in pain and his eyes shot up and rolled into the back of his head. He would have dropped to the ground like a stone but four pairs of hands reached for him at the same time.

"I got 'im, don't worry. He's not heavy," Porthos grunted and lifted the unconscious man up and started to carry him towards his and Constance's room.

\--------

"You might as well open your eyes, we know you're awake," came Aramis' voice from his left side.

D'Artagnan exhaled the breath he was holding, before he slowly started to blink his eyelids open. The room was swaying slightly, even though he knew he must be laying down on their bed.

The young man carefully glanced at the faces around him before a frustrated groan escaped him and he began pushing himself into a sitting position.

The others didn't speak but observed their little brother's face going through an array of different emotions from sadness to hurt and utter hopelessness before he was able to conceal himself.

"Where's Constance?" The boy asked quietly while staring at the floor.

"She's reorganizing the garrisons weapons room," Athos told him. "She wanted to keep herself busy until we have talked with you," at that d'Artagnan bristled and his hands clenched into fists.

"I don't need taking to," the young Gascon spat and was about to jump up and storm out of the room but Porthos was quicker and grounded him with a heavy hand upon his shoulder.

"Stop being so stubborn. Your body can't take much more of what you been doing to yourself lately. I won't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. We have been through too much during the last four years to lose you to your own folly," the big man told him firmly while searching for a hint of whatever ailed the young man in d'Artagnan's eyes but the boy refused to hold his gaze.

"Why didn't you come to me, after the trouble with the prisoners?" Athos enquired calmly and d'Artagnan looked up at him in startled surprise. How his mentor could still read him like a book, even after all this time, he didn't know. But to be so predictable made him angry once again.

"Because I am a fully trained musketeer who's made a mistake that not a single one of the greenest recruits would ever make," he snapped at his captain.

"And because I have been to war and fought many battles on my own - without anyone needing to hold my hand," he pushed Porthos away and felt his injured arm throb hotly under the bandage that Aramis must have applied while he had been still out of it.

The pain actually felt good, it felt like he deserved it. It flooded through him in waves and he felt himself calm down.

"Or maybe it is that my wife doesn't need me to be back home at all and is fully capable of dealing with everything on her own," he spoke quietly again and the others were barely able to hear him. By now he had started to curl the fingers of one hand around the bandage of the wounded arm and pressed into it without a care for his own health.

"D'Artagnan!" Aramis called out in horror and Porthos swiftly pried the Gascon's fingers away and held onto both hands.

Aramis was bend down by the boy's feet and checked the wound for fresh traces of blood, in case the stitches had been torn open. But luckily everything appeared to be in place.

Everything, apart from their youngest brother.

The ex-monk looked at the boy for permission and after receiving a tiny nod, softly placed his hand upon his knee. This time he didn't shrink away from the other man's touch.

"It seems there has been quite a lot on your mind, since we all returned to Paris. I know I haven't been with you, to see all of your transformation but I know that you are not the hotheaded youngling that left for the battlefields four years ago," at that Porthos agreed loudly and Athos nodded his head in silent confirmation.

But for d'Artagnan, it only brought tears to his eyes.

"You don't know how it is. What you said is what I thought about myself as well but since we came back, it's like nothing ever changed. It's right back to the three inseparables and their useless mascot," the boy whispered as if he was ashamed that they would hear his inner thoughts out loud.

Porthos was ready to explode and tell the younger man that this was very much absurd nonsense but Athos threw him a look that demanded him to hold his tongue just a little longer.

And true enough, more words kept spilling from d'Artagnan's lips as if a dam had been washed away.

"I feel so lost. To the recruits, I am just this lucky guy that got his commission handed to him before its time by pure chance. They don't know how to approach me because I am their age but they are also supposed to show me respect."

"Constance thinks me no different then I was, this hot-headed fool and is trying to mother me just the same as one of her new charges."

"And to top it all, I prove them right by bringing a known criminal - a murderer, right into the convent to slaughter innocent nuns," he finished breathlessly and retracted his hands to bury his face into them when he couldn't hold the tears back from spilling over.

Finally Athos pushed away from his spot near the door and knelt next to Aramis by the boy's feet. He could feel Porthos staring into his back, willing his captain to make this wrong into right again.

So, he carefully pulled his brothers face, wet with tears of grief, out of hiding and forced d'Artagnan to look him in the eye.

The boy couldn't help the sobs that shook his body while he tried not to give in to the weeping that threatened to overtake him.

"It was just a mistake, d'Artagnan. I am glad and even proud to know that the horrors of war have not been able to rob you of your ever kind heart and your ability to see the good in the people," the captain said without hesitation.

"You and Porthos were extensions of myself over the last years, my left and right arm, both equally strong and reliable and ready to strike when I could not. I'm sorry I hadn't realized until now that I still treat you like you were a part of myself and did not consider your feelings and needs. Forgive me brother, for I have been too careless with you," Athos had tears in his eyes and d'Artagnan shook his head in refusal at his mentors words.

"No Athos, I-" the younger musketeer cut in but was promptly shushed.

"You are definitely not a child anymore. I know that you weren't one when you came to us after your father's death but I have seen you grow into a man that I can call my equal. A man that I admire and others will follow wherever you may lead them."

"The recruits love and admire you for all those things you feel are faults to your person and your wife-," he sighed and looked so miserably at his little brother that d'Artagnan couldn't help a small smile stealing onto his lips. "Please don't make me tell you how fiercely Constance has missed the other part of her soul, which you are to her as she is to you. You know that isn't exactly my area of expertise,” the older man added, patting the boy's cheek once while Aramis and Porthos couldn't hold back their laughter anymore.

D'Artagnan found he could smile as well because the heaviness that sat upon his mind and deep in his chest had been lifted for the first time in weeks. The guilt would not cease easily for a long time but when he looked up at his brothers he could see forgiveness in Aramis' eyes, found understanding in Porthos' face and Athos shone with such unwavering love that d'Artagnan could at least hope to find his way back to be the person they all claimed to see in him.

He drew a shaky breath before wiping his face quickly with the back of his hand. “Thank you for believing in me, even when I couldn't. I will be eternally glad we all found our way to be together once again,” he also nodded at Aramis and the Spaniard inclined his own head in return.

“I guess that only leaves one thing,” d'Artagnan said and swallowed nervously while he tried to muster the courage to find Constance and make peace with his wife.

Porthos could not hold himself back any longer and pulled the young man up to embrace him quickly before sending him out of the door with a playful shove. “And after she accepted your apology, which I know she will because Constance is practically a saint - remember that the armory has a bolt that locks it from the inside. Feel free to use it but don't ruin Aramis' needlework” the big man shouted after d'Artagnan and the three older musketeers laughed out loud at the blush they saw creeping into the boy's ears while he hurried away.

End

**Author's Note:**

> What is going on? Is seems to me in Season 3 there isn't much of "One for all" to be found anymore. I needed to feel some brotherly love...and apparently d'Artagnan with a bit of a midlife-crisis as well :D


End file.
